Zippo
by Threaded Needles
Summary: When Jason is brought back to the land of the living, he finds himself without food, clothes or shelter. Unfortunately, the only person that he is able to be in contact with is the reincarnation of the devil. Metaphorically, of course. Jason/OC
1. Chapter 1

Jason Todd certainly wasn't feeling alive. He'd rather still be in a body bag, his mind elsewhere. Life may have dealt him a shitty hand, but he didn't need a second dose of it.

What was Ra's Al Ghul even thinking? Whether or he was alive, he'd never join the stupid bastard.

Which is how he ended up moving at a top speed of _snail _with a destination of _nowhere. _Hunger clawed at his stomach, and he shivered underneath the wrappings that he had been trapped in beforehand.

_Great job, Todd, _he thought glumly, looking blearily at the row of pastel colored houses down the road, _leave before they give you food and clothes. _

He sighed. He either had to knock on one of the houses and hope someone takes enough pity on him they let him take a hot shower and sleep on their couch.

Or, he could keep walking.

_Just, find the least horrible house. _He glanced at the lilac and pink colored houses and almost lost the lunch that he didn't have. Couldn't people make eggshell colored houses anymore?

He stepped over to the first lavender colored house that was lining the street. Morning Glories dotted the front garden and he groaned, knocking on the door.

A tall, thin woman. With a sharp, pointed face answered the door. Her light skin put her in the same league as a vampire and her sandy blonde hair was cut at her ears. She was wearing a stiff shirt and pencil skirt, "We don't have food for you ruffians."

"I hope you didn't reproduce," He mumbles before the door is slammed in his face. He grumbles, and walks around the house, thinking about dropping on his knees and uprooting all of the flowers surrounding the house and throwing them through her windows.

In fact, he walks the perimeter of the house, scouting out the best window to destroy when he's forced to stop. "People are always trying to go through our trash."

He narrows his eyes at the girl, who has a paperback resting in front of her, her sandy hair braided down her back. "Yeah, well the Wicked Bitch wouldn't give me some garbage, so I'm gonna go through her trash."

"That's stupid."

"You're stupid," He replied, inspecting the back window. "Are you the hobo who's already claimed this trashbin? _So_ sorry."

"Actually, I'm the _Wicked Bitch's_ daughter."

He grimaced, "Ew, really? She had kids? Who married her flat ass?"

"_Kid_, and my dad died when I was nine, shooting at a bank."

He looked at the half-open window and wondered how well he could hurl a plant through it. Maybe they had a dog and he could throw in some of the puppy feces. "Join the club, my dad is dead and my mom left me."

"So you're a hobo now?"

"I realize you're a princess, but could you drop the hobo thing?"

She opened her paperback suddenly, and started reading. He was given a two second warning to dive behind a bush before the Wicked Bitch suddenly opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. "Vivian, I am going to the store, do you need anything?"

"_Sprite_."

The woman left and after a minute Jason was able to hear the squelch of tires as she drove off. "Thanks for the warning!"

"I figured you'd like it." She got up, carrying her book. "Well, are you coming in?"

"What? Fuck- no! You'll probably give me a lobotomy!"

Her eyes narrowed, before she shrugged, "Eh, whatever. Try and stay warm though."

"Fuck off."

His decision to ignore her friendly olive branch was quickly realized as a bad one. He was starving, tired, grungy and now freezing cold. Outside. "Idiot." He looked at the warm glow of the house and a silloute that was dancing around near the windows.

Using his instincts, he dropped to the ground, brought his knees to his chest, stuck his hands in his armpits and attempted to stay warm.


	2. Chapter 2

Jason awoke to bright light and a dull pain radiating in his ribs. Above him, Vivian was wearing a school uniform (all navy blue except for a gold carved insignia) and was dropping a pile of worn down clothes onto his head and walking off.

It takes him a minute to realize that he's still outside, _alive. _He should have frozen... he bolts up, taking the pink blanket that has white butterflies imprinted up with him. Great, so now he was indebted to the little psycho girl. He eyed the mens' clothes. Twice.

He wasted no time slipping on the slightly too big jeans, a gray long sleeve and black zip-up coat. Steel toed boots were slipped on over thick wool socks, and he admired her taste in making sure he was able to move around without handing him holey or stained clothes. He folded up her butterfly blanket and set it in front of the door.

Now, he needed food. He didn't magically come into money and it's not like the girl had dropped a wad of cash on his chest. So, he broke into the house.

Just so you know, he didn't put his fist through the window and try and unlock it that way. First of all, that would hurt like hell. Plus he had slightly more respect than that for property. So he took some of the pins that Vivian had in her blanket to keep the seams from bursting and began the slow process of picking the lock.

After what seemed like forever, he finally heard a noise and the door finally swung wide open. He stepped into the open room, making sure to close and relock the oak door.

The door led right to the kitchen, which had granite counters and a sparkling sink. Her water was probably full of diamonds. He found a fruit bowl and grabbed an apple, finding a spot on the couch to flop on.

Finding the remote, he flipped it on, turning up the sound as Iris West-Allen and Cat Grant took turns with banter on the news.

_"And we were able to get a word with the Bruce Wayne!" _

_"Hello, ladies." _

_"Mr. Wayne, what can you say about the death of your ward, Jason and adoption of your new ward, Timothy?" _

Jason froze mid-chew. New ward? A replacement. Was Bruce that desperate that he'd pick up the next kid who was filthy on the street to pull the Robin costume over their head? He bet whoever this Timothy kid was hadn't been able to take off the tires from the batmobile.

All the sudden, he threw the apple against the wall and the bright green fruit exploded against Vivian's pristine beige walls. He needed to get out of this hellhole and to Gotham.

He spends the rest of the time before Vivian comes home packing a dark green bag full of none perishable foods he was able to find, a hideous purple blanket he finds stuffed away in a closet and a couple pairs of wool socks he finds.

"Are you going somewhere?"

_Shit_, he thought. He was trying to leave before Vivian came home. Her schoolbag was set on a hook while she stepped forward. On her girls' school uniform was printed: _Washington D.C. Girl's School_. His heart sank. He was really far from Gotham. "Yeah, Gotham. Ever been there? It's not a place for girls like you."

"Are you even a homeless guy or are you just a thief?"

His eyes narrowed. "Word of advice, don't believe everything someone tells you."

It was her turn to be angry. "I didn't believe anything! You were sleeping on concrete outside my home naked! I thought you might enjoy some clothes and a blanket!"

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but I have to get to Gotham, so if you excuse me-" He lifted the bag onto his shoulders, only to have Vivian block the door.

"Why do you need to get to Gotham so badly?"

He ground his teeth together. "None of your _damn_ business."

"You made it mine, so why do you want to go to Gotham? Maybe I can help."

"My adoptive father is there."

Her eyes widened, "I thought you said-"

"I lied, okay? I was a hooligan until I was nine, wouldn't listen to my parents. I stole the Batman's tires off his car and almost got away with it. Next thing I know I'm in the lap of luxury with Bruce Wayne."

There was a moment of silence, before she removed herself from in front of the door, "Alright, go."


	3. Chapter 3

_Apparently, people don't like hitch hikers_, Jason decided after the third white sedan rolled past him while he turned to an icicle underneath his jacket. He didn't have gloves, which he really should've have taken Vivian's gloves, no matter how pink they were, so his hands were shivering and cracked from the cold.

He kept walking down the road with his thumb sticking out when a large, sixteen wheeled truck gently stopped. A man poked his head out. "Little chilly out there?"

"A tad," Jason agreed with a grit in his teeth.

He laughed. "I like you. Hop in, how far you going?"

"As far as you'll take me," Jason said, shoving his bag into the passengers side and hoping up with it. He slammed the door shut when the driver threw a pair of gloves at his face.

"It's not much, but it's cold this time of year."

"Thanks," Jason mumbled, belting himself in and attempting to find a good position to sleep in. The gloves were a dark gray and not very thick, they'd work. He slipped them on while the driver slid into a gas station lot.

He hopped out while Jason began looking through every compartment he could find. Eventually, under a stack of useless clutter he found a pocket knife, which he quickly concealed underneath his jacket.

"I'm goin' all the way out to Steel if you want," The driver proposed, getting back in.

"Yeah, that's fine." He shoved his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Once in Steel City, Jason tried to find shelter as quick as possible. He also wanted to call and check on Vivian because something in his head was nagging him to make some stupid house call and express profusely how thankful he was for not only letting him go but basically run off with a bunch of her stuff.

Problem number one, however, was that he had absolutely no idea what her last name was so he couldn't just open a phone book and call. Secondly, he was still a fairly good distance from Gotham, without any money.

He looked around. Most people were walking around, talking on phones, and reading the newspaper. "Uh, excuse me sir!"

The man with a styrofoam coffee cup looked Jason up and down, frowning at his slightly too big outfit and twisted frown. "Yeah?"

"Could you tell me where the train station is?"

The man sighed and twisted his body slightly. "It's right over there, about two blocks away, can't miss it."

"Okay, thanks," He replied, making sure to be well out of his sight before thumbing through the wallet he had pick pocketed from him.

The train station was right where he said it would be, so Jason slammed a wadful of cash in front of the woman selling tickets to the next train to Gotham. He also made sure to throw out pictures of the guys' kids.

"Next train isn't for forty minutes, better nap on the bench," The woman said, sliding his ticket across. He found a bench and sat his bag next to it; resting. When the train pulled in later he flashed his ticket to the man in uniform and found a comfortable waiting spot.

"Excuse me, may I sit here?"

Jason moved his bag for the goatee-d man, swearing under his breath.

"You are a member of the Fields family?" The man asked, pointing to the stencling on the bag. In lopsided lettering was "Vi Fields- Return if lost".

"Uh, no, my friend is. She let me borrow it while I visit my dad in Gotham. She- the Fields- live in Washington DC."

"Ah, I see." He murmered, looking intently at the bag. He turned to make a call.


	5. Chapter 5

Jason stretched his legs at the stop at Gotham, glad to be off the rickety death trap that he had been constricted to before hand. He kept the bag close to him as he touched his toes when the guy who had been next to him slid up on the bench. "Hey."

"Go the fuck away."

"Oh, we're Mr. Sensibility," The man said, rolling his eyes. He threw a wad of cash into Jason's lap. "I know she's your friend, but if you ignore it for a while, there will be more where that is coming from.

Jason looked down at the cash, in crisp lines with a rubber band snapped around it. It was weird. "What do you mean _look the other way_?"

"You don't know? I thought you were one of us, kid."

"I am, I am," Jason reassured him. "But I took a spill a while ago, rattled my head all to hell. Remind me."

The man grinned, as if he had received a birthday present that contained a treasure map to every single jewel stash in the world. "Aw, c'mon. Everyone knows that the dad left a ton of money and land in the kid's name."

"He did?"

"Sure did." The man tilted back his suitcase. "If we take the kid for a few weeks we got ourselves a worried mother who would do anything for her _precious_ little baby, so she'll ignore the "age eighteen" law set on the funds and drain the account for her little brat."

"And Vi- the girl?"

"What else would we do with her? We kill her!" The man slapped his knee and snorted, wheezing.

He didn't know how, but suddenly the knife was in his hands, sinking its way through the man like he was just a pad of butter. His eyes bulged as the pocket knife caught on bone. _What a waste of a knife._

"K-kid."

"Sorry," Jason mumbled, pulling out an unused lighter from the depths of his pocket. It only took a moment, and the man was one big walking, talking torch.


	6. Chapter 6

Every connivence store sells cheap, untraceable cell phones. When Jason buys one, sporting a pair of black shades he found, the store clerk sizes up how much of a rapist he could possibly be before activating the chip in it and sliding it across to him.

"Have a nice day."

"You too, I guess."

After he got the general workings for the phone, he made his way over to a nearby, run down, internet cafe.

The cafe had torn seats and a disgruntled looking barista, but thankfully, working computers in the back. He made sure to buy a cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon before taking a laptop.

Jason sat at one of the humming laptops, being careful not to spill his cocoa. He used the tiny mouspad and clicked up the internet, which slowly opened to a search engine.

_Vivian Fields_

After he typed in her name, he waited for Google to process his command, taking a long sip from his drink until the search engine finally brought up millions of things he may be looking for. He pressed on the first one: a Wikipedia page. Nothing, except some person that had the same name as her. He glanced through a few others but nothing else came up.

So he went back to the search bar and instead entered: _The Fields Family_

After a few painstaking moments, a new list of pages came up, and the first one he clicked on showed a family portrait of three. A terribly thin woman with a grimace more than a smile, with a braid down her back, a dark haired man with a handlebar moustache who was lifting his tiny five year old daughter.

_Left to Right: Douglas Fields, Vivian Fields, Veronica Fields._

Jason smiled, highlighted the first name and put that in the search bar. Now he'd know why some wannabe gangsters were after Vivian. Not that he cared, but if he was going to get back into this business of hero-ing around, he needed to start somewhere- right?

Douglas Fields brought up the Fields banking and entrepreneurship business. Basically, a business that Douglas wouldn't have to touch and still earn more in a minute then the average waitress in a month. Or, like Wayne Tech, just a bank.

The article went on to explain how Mr. Fields was killed during a gone bad bank robbery during an explosion the robber left. There were no survivors. Later in his will, it was read that he had left his land and money to his only daughter, Vivian, but his business to his wife, Veronica.

Which meant that Veronica was still making big bucks, just not inheriting.

"Excuse me, sir. It's time to close." The barista tapped his shoulder, and he quickly closed the laptop. "We reopen at nine in the morning tomorrow, if you need to resume your work."

"Uh, yeah. Thank you." He threw out his cold cocoa and looked at the darkening sky. Was Vivian really in danger or was the guy just prattling on? He searched his pockets for his phone.


	7. Chapter 7

He had absolutely no way to contact Vivian. No way to warn her. And for some godforsaken reason, that scared him.

What if she was actually in trouble? What if this wasn't all bullshit and people were actually trying to kill this tiny, chipper thirteen year old?

And the mom, having already lost her husband, even if she was friendly as a pissed off Labrador, he knew what it was like to lose everything you loved.

He dialed random numbers with the Washington D.C. area code until he hit the right number and a guy with a thick heavy voice answered the phone.

"Whassup?"

Oh god. He almost hung up, except the fact that the guy's voice cracked at the end of his sentence. Middle school-er, possibly high school, which meant he might know Vivian, he might have her number. He tested the water carefully. "I was trying to call my friend, Vi-"

"Vi? Yeah man, you've got her _boy_friend's place. It's all chill, let me just get you the real number."

Jason wanted to stab himself repeatedly in the ears. Finally the dude rifled through some papers and came back with a number.

"Good luck man, she hasn't been a real good mood these past few days. If ya know what I mean."

"Probably cause she has to be around you, you dickwad."

He hung up before a response could be heard and called the digits that the idiot gave him. One ring. Two. Three. Four.

"You've reached Vivian, please leave your-"

"Hi! Sorry, was practicing viola."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "You're okay."

Long pause. Really long, awkward pause. "I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Jason." He spits it out before he remembers he never told her his name. That he was just some nameless criminal ransacking her house and eating her fruit, who is now calling her. For what? To apologize? Suddenly the stupidity of it crashes down on him. What could he say anyways? _Hey, sorry, thought you were going to be under attack by some guys who were going to steal the money you don't have. Just making sure you're okay. Yeah, this is the guy who stole all that stuff from you a week ago. _

"I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number, I don't know a-"

"I'm the guy who was naked on your sidewalk. You gave him a blanket with butterflies on it and some really nice, worn clothes. I took a purple blanket, some socks and all your granola bars. Going to Gotham City; actually a ward of the rich Bruce Wayne. _That_ Jason."

"Why are you calling me?"

He bites back the words _you're in danger_ because they sound hilarious out loud. "I- uh- heard some word on the street that this gang was going to be pulling a big huge heist involving some of the rich around the country. Wayne, Queen, Fields, and Stark-" He realizes too late the last one is from a movie and comic book chain and almost punches himself. God, he's so _stupid_.

"And…?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." He blurts out. Okay, so maybe he did? Sue him. She did give him (unknowingly) a month supply of granola bars… and she had a pretty smile. He quickly shook the thought from his head.

"Well, I'm fine. Thanks anyways." It sounds like she moves to put the phone down and continue on with her life, so he shouts and hopes she doesn't think he's insane. Yeah, cause that will happen.

"I need to get you somewhere safe until this blows over."

He shifts a little on his feet when a guy passes by, giving him a strange look. "I don't think so, Jason. This sounds more like it should be handled by someone like Batman or Robin. Not some petty thief."

He wanted to scream at her and tell her _he_ was Robin. He isn't some _criminal_. She needs to listen to him and-

The phone line goes dead.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Two-**

Vivian stared at the bloody card attached to the outside of her window early the next morning. Sloppy writing and a few thumbprint stains concluded what she had feared.

It was Tim- saying he was unable to conclude his search for Jason, no matter how deep her suspicions had run.

Five years might have been a long time- but the second she saw the straight laced boots with worn steel on the toes, she knew it was Jason. It didn't matter if his face was covered and he had ditched the jeans for easy to move cargo pants. She_ knew_ it was Jason. But all her attempts to contact him fell through and eventually she was forced to ask the tech genius at her school to help her track him down. She should've known that Jason wouldn't take kindly to that.

So, she tore the card in half and then in half again and began getting dressed for the school day. Her mom and her had moved to Gotham a while back to build a new business there. Though her mom promised that they could move back once the construction was finished, her mother had been solemn to keep her promise and actually begin packing up.

And, technically, Vivian really hated the school here. She was used to clean cut walls and posters telling you how to prevent HIV and lockers that clanged. Here it was chaos, with anatomy drawn on the principal's door- crudely, of course. It looked nothing like it- and binders, notebooks, looseleaf paper thrown on the floor. Everything was just one big mess after another.

Plus the place had guys. And if there was one thing Vivian had learned it was that guys were disgusting. Even Jason with his… nakedness on her sidewalk. And if they weren't that, then they were being slime balls who bought grams of meth for ridiculous amounts and blew smoke in her face, whistled when she wore a skirt….

It was degrading, okay?

She picked out a clean school skirt, shirt, and jacket, slipped those on, pulled on white tights and converses with pink shoelaces. She pulled back her hair and applied lip-gloss, shrugging on her bag for the day of school.

In the living room, the TV was on with yet another special feature with The Red Hood. She glanced at the scene quickly, her mind reeling. Was she just imagining things? Could those really be her father's boots or was she just- for some odd reason- tricking herself into believing that Jason was still alive? Even if he was a criminal?

She turned off the TV and left for school.

* * *

Jason sat on a rooftop. It was a good vantage point, not many cameras, and he could eat his burger and drink his soda without much company except a few stray pigeons. Which, of course, he threw the fries he would never eat at.

Drug chains were a huge problem in the west side of Gotham, for reasons he could not fathom. Even with it being the ritzier side and having the academy, it still seemed to have a huge amount of traffic for drugs. Mainly methamphetamines but the occasional thing of pot and heroine was definite.

He took a bite of the cheap grease and chewed the slippery mouthful of pickles and stale bread he got while holding up the binoculars to his eyes. He wasn't too surprised to see a bone-thin woman with bottle blonde hair distributing tiny grams of crystal meth. He should probably bust her, but he was a little high up on the building without his zip line and well, it wasn't  
part of his plan. He still needed to call that meeting for later on that night-

He stuffed the rest of the burger into his mouth and wiped his hands against his thigh, figuring he'd just wash later. Students were beginning to gather around to start the school day and the blonde woman was trying to get a few of them to buy the leftover grams she had. A few caved and bought one and the ones that didn't enabled to woman to throw a very un-adult hissy fit until they did.

He sighed. This was stupid, he should probably get down. He had work to do.


End file.
